Stories

Go Back to Jersey...

Matt — Tue, 22 Mar 2005 00:39:00 GMT

I am in possession of an artifact from my past. Attached to this artifact is one of those stories that I tell about 6 or 7 times a year. It is my belief the story is amusing and it is a story that I always get around to telling people while we are passing time in the break room, hanging around at the pool, or on Sunday during coffee after Church. It is just a good story...and I generally share it with people after they have known me for awhile. Well, you all have known me for awhile...

It must have been the Summer of 1990. I was traveling with my friends Andy and Mike. I can only recall that we went to go see a Mets game. Now let me tell you about every trip I have ever made to Shea Stadium. Each one is never the same, generally I point the car in the northern direction and pray. I cannot tell you how many times I have circled Flushing Meadows before landing at Shea. I would have a better chance of landing at JFK Airport, I never can find the right exit ramp for the parking lot for Shea.

I think the Met's were playing the Pirates but I have no clue who won. It must have been a day game, because I remember Andy getting this horrible sunburn and also the return trip was in the daylight hours. It must have been a Sunday too, there was a lot of traffic leaving the stadium that day. Of course I had even less clue going home from Shea than I had coming in... Andy and Mikey, boasting Met's fans , had the brilliant idea of traveling across the island and grabbing Holland tunnel.

This was not a problem. I drove, we were in my brother Jack's borrowed Nissan. It was a pretty sporty car and a lot of fun to drive. We leave Shea and drive over a few bridges and of course, hit traffic.. Andy, my trusty navigator falls asleep. I remember now the sunburn he had and how red his face had turned. We sit in stop and go traffic on Canal St. for quite a long time. It must have been an hour, probably felt like two. This was a new car so the air conditioning worked fine and the radio was great but still time is time, when you have to wait.

We finally arrive at the end of Canal St. and I have this guy riding my rear end the whole way. I enter this light with plenty of time...but traffic goes nowhere and the light turns red.....with me sitting in the middle of the grid locked intersection with about 10-15 other cars. Now...this was kind of a funny. It was like the Keystone Cops. Beforehand I have never seen any Police Officers....but as soon as there was gridlock....I am telling you.....about 20 cops jumped out of the ground...and ran to all the cars that were trapped. It was quite comic.. I still do not have a clue where they were hiding. Unfortunately I was one of those grid locked cars.

Well we get a typical New York Cop. Dark hair, husky, thick New York City accent, “License, Registration and Insurance”. Me, (gulp) “Yes Officer.” I grab my license, then I reach into the glove compartament....there is an expired registration and no insurance card. Me, “Uhh...Officer...your never going to believe this.” I knew I was in trouble. I saw the tow wreckers on the side of the street just waiting for guys like me. The other Cops were busy writing tickets and our Boy in Blue looked like he was getting ready to whip into action, whistling for help when from the back seat came probably the bravest words I have ever heard recited in my entire life.

“Excuse me officer, how about some professional courtesy?” The Boy in Blue leaned down and looks through my window. I turn around and look in amazement. Sure enough there was Mikey sitting in the back seat. He had out his wallet and had it open baring his badge. The Boy in Blue looked even more quizzically,”let me see that?” and across my face goes Mikey's badge.

Mind you all......I give Mikey a lot of credit. At the time he was a Park Ranger. He patrolled the parks and ticketed Mommy's for disposing of their diapers incorrectly. Mikey was dead on professional courtesy serious. I was looking at my friend...with his cocky, don't worry Matt I'll get us out of this attitude, and then I was looking at the badge as it was going across my face being handed to the Boy in Blue. All I could read was “Park Security“ which you can all see very clearly. I remember thinking to myself “I am so dead, I wonder what New York City Jails are like?“

I remember the Boy in Blue taking the badge. I remember his expression.....“what are you nuts?“ “are you kidding me?“ his face held the expression of someone that regarded what Mikey did as incredulous, bold and part idiot. What he did next is so memorable. He took Mikey's badge and tossed it at him. He stood up and and straightened his belt....and said,

Boys, Do me a favor, get out of here. Go Back to Jersey.

Just two footnotes. Andy, my roommate at the time, continued to sleep throughout this whole ordeal. This tid bit kind of gives this story lore. The second footnote is that Mikey presented me with the badge last night as a gift. It just goes to show you what kind of guy Mikey is and I really appreciate his gesture and kindness. It is a common denominator that is common in all of my friends. I will promise you all one thing, I will not use this badge to get me out of trouble in the future. It remains in retirement. It did its tour of professional courtesy.

The Beauty's Last Supper (pt3)

Matt — Sat, 19 Feb 2005 11:22:00 GMT

Warning. There is some Graphic detail to follow for all faint at heart. My hope is that none of what I do here glorifies me, but glorifies the Father and how woderful it is to have a relationship with him. A simple Yes to God, a Yes to Jesus can make so much difference in your own life. Cindy and I said YES long before any hardship ever befell us. It made life that much easier. This is one of my favorite Pictures. It is taken New Year's Eve 1993. Cindy was happy when she was warm, bundled and by me. I was still working at this point and we really had no clue how much longer Cindy would live. She had lost a lot of weight and there were several more hospital visits ahead in 1994. But, we were with some of our best friends this night and we could care less...

Cindy's health did decline quite a bit and rapidly. She planned my Surprise Birthday party in February when I turned 29. Afterwards it was amazing to see her organizational abilities. She had charts for food, people, phone numbers and other possible dates. She still had all of her marbles.

But...AIDS is not a very nice disease. The more compromised you get the more areas it will infect/affect. During April of 1994 Cindy's thought patterns became quite peculiar. She was suffering from a form of dementia and had to be hospitalized. Things took a turn for the worse when she tested positive for Tuberculosis. She lost more weight than I thought was possible and our usually positive Dr. Weinberg for the first time took me out in the hall and told me Cindy's time was closing.

I remember our Pastor,Robert, coming and praying. He prayedfor a long time and when he left the hospital room his eyes were tear filled. He said something comforting before he left. It was probably an offer to stay. I will let you in on a secret. Even if I wanted to say yes...I said no. I have this trigger within me that automatically releases anyone that might feel obligated to me. Perhaps he was grateful or just respectful, I don't know, but he left, and I was alone with my wife.

Cindy had been comatose for three days. Not a word, not a movement, nothing. Just the slightness of her chest moving up and down, barely confirming that she was breathing. It was getting late and I finally fell asleep in the reclining chair next to her bed. I was startled awake by a voice. It was a dry voice, grating and soft. “You sure do sleep a lot.” These were the grandest words I have ever heard. I opened my eyes to see Cindy wide eyed and alert staring at me.

Miraculously Cindy recovered enough to transport her home from the Monmouth Medical Center. She came home to die. This was in late May right before Justin’s Second Birthday. Cindy was home for the party and it was a really good time. Both families came and many friends were present.

Cindy and Andrew when she first came home. He was only 10 months.

During this time Cindy was attended by Nurses provided from a local agency. At first it was 16 hours a day. I basically covered 8 hrs myself. No big deal. We also had a few visits from a Hospice Chaplain. She was helpful and explained that she really loved when she came across a Christian like Cindy that suffered so well. We spoke about birthing and the process Cindy was undergoing of being birthed into heaven.

The last two weeks of Cindy’s life we I threw a small birthday party for her. I steamed a large lobster and promised her anything she would want for her birthday. A strange thing happened. Up until now Cindy was struggling with dementia. She had accused nurses of beating the children and me throwing her out the window. It was at this moment that her mind cleared. Her thoughts became as crystal water. For the next two weeks I had my wife back. God had removed the lesions that were on her brain and Cindy was thinking and processing all that was around her and she was communicating it with what was now a very simple child like voice.

Cindy knew she was dying. Often she asked me to pull up a chair next to her and sit. We held hands like lovers constantly. We would spend the time together that Cindy treasured and desired. That was her only wish, to be with me. Though a nurse was present I was the primary caretaker. I can remember the smells in the room, the fragrances of all the lotions and perfumes that were used and the atmosphere of the music that was being played.

Saturday August 6^th Cindy announced she was ready to die. She wanted me to call Bob Guadagnino and Robert Parkinson and have them come over so she could talk to them. They both came and Robert brought his wife Dawn.

Here is the Parkinson Family. Robert, our Pastor at the time, and Dawn of course his beautiful wife and their children.

Cindy individually tells Robert and Bob that she is ready to die. She knows that the boys and I are going to be all right and that God will provide for us. But she knows her time here is ending and she is tired and ready to go home.

This is now Saturday Evening and Robert asks Cindy if she would like to do Communion. Her eyes light up and she says yes. We all surround her hospital bed that sits in the middle of my living room. Myself, Bob, Dawn (Robert’s wife), Zina (the Nurse) and Robert. Robert takes the elements and puts them on a TV table on his side.

^{I Corinthians 23}For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, ²⁴and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” ²⁵In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” ²⁶For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.

So Robert had distributed the elements to everyone including Cindy. When Cindy went to drink the wine/grape juice we noticed that the bread was stuck in her mouth/throat. Between the Nurse, myself and Robert we all tried to get the bread out because of fear it may choke Cindy. But she fought us off. She held onto that bread in her mouth/throat. Later on we would realize it was symbolic of how hard she had clung to Christ through her illness.

Cindy had run a good race. Put up a good fight was a true warrior. Her tenacity with holding onto the bread in her mouth showed her true love for Christ. I have never seen anyone partake in the Last Supper the way Cindy did I probably never will. I might be a little bias but I am not so sure. I think it is one of God’s gifts to me to witness and be part of something so powerful and moving.

Robert was preparing to leave late that evening. Cindy was fading and two words were barely coming out of her mouth. We both leaned closer and I realized something weird, it was like listening to the Tin Man on the Wizard of Oz. She could barely speak. The two words came again. Then Robert exclaims “I think she said something about feet!” We both look down…and Cindy’s feet are crushed against the bottom head board. Doh! Together we gently pull her up.

With tears in his eyes Robert prayed for Cindy one very last time. He left knowing that he may not see Cindy here again on this Earth. As he departed I remember thinking about him. Our marriage counseling, the wedding, the Tuesdays he spent here after traveling back from his classes in Penn. (way before “Tuesday’s with Morrie“) just the amount of time he spent investing in my family. Robert had become a very good friend. I miss him.

August 7, 1994 5 am. I hardly slept. My wife was dying. There will be other times to sleep. I see Cindy’s lips moving again. I bend down to hear what she is trying to say. “I really hurt.” I heard those three words. They chopped me down. I turned my head to God and pleaded to change spots. I was the sinner. I had more worldly experience I deserved the seat of judgment that was coming. Cindy was the Lamb. She was so pure and innocent. I had never met anyone so pure an innocent in my life and here I was on the threshold of them being taken away. Cindy whispered again, “I really hurt.”

I ran. Looking for the nurse. Looking for Zina. I find her and tell her Cindy is hurting. I was frantic. Zina put a call into the Doctor because it will be a med change. 15 minutes later, there is no call back from the Doctor. Zina points to the MS Contin on the table and says to me, “Matt, Cindy is obviously in pain. I do not know why the on call Dr. has not called yet. I am going to walk out of the house and you can do what you want with the MS Contin.” (HINT!) So Zina left and the Holy Spirit came. I prayed. I opened up the MS Contin and gave my wife several pills. Within minutes her pain disappeared. Her breathing evened and and her state relaxed.

Zina later on reasoned with me and encouaged me to go to Church. It was Sunday. I left and prayed. They came and got me…during the service, I had to go home. Cindy was declining rapidly. Several people followed and everyone that came got their own special time with Cindy. I sat out back with my Dad and took a walk with a friend. At 5:29 pm I walked into the house…Cindy took her last gasp. Her Mother was holding one hand and her friend Betsie was holding the other.

Now the most wonderful part. Cindy said goodbye. I was standing in the open door and Cindy’s spirit entered my chest went up through my head and out the door. The room was empty. No more Cindy. Our Bond was broken. I fell to my knees and howled. To this day I can remember everyone slowly leaving the room as I howled. Zina closed all the windows and I howled. It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. The separation of Man and Wife.

This is a picture anonomously given to me after Cindy died with a note attached to the back. With Dignity Cindy You gracefully showed me a soldier of God you stood strong. And though you were frail your faithfulness prevailed and victory in Jesus was Won

Part 4 The Beast and his Other Work

From the Church to the Moon, This distance does not Measure up to My Friendships (pt 2 of the Beauty Series)

Matt — Wed, 09 Feb 2005 11:42:00 GMT

Okay. Many of my my friends have recently said to me that they thought that I was heading in the direction of calling Nick “The Beast”. POINTING OUT TO ANYONE THAT DID NOT GET IT....I AM THE BEAST. Now that we have that squared away we can continue with my little...what I have decided to declare informational photo journal. Three times I have sat down to write Pt 2 and three times I was distracted and unsatisfied. I have decided to just let it fly. I have the direction for the next three parts..I just need to sit and write. Unfortunately somewhere I need to sleep too...which is not coming easily these days.......

C.S. Lewis in his book The Four Loves breaks love down into four categories, affection, friendship, eros, and charity. Lewis gives them all their Greek names and even manages to give each form a level at which it serves in its form of love. Now, I have not read the book in several years and probably could afford once over...but I just have not.. What really brings me back to this book is friendship. If you remember I blogged about Friendship here and the value I have learned to attach to it. Lewis cites that friendship is perhaps out of all of the loves the least natural. The least instinctive, gregarious, organic biological and necessary. We do not need friends to procreate etc. Later on Lewis makes his case for friendship and he closes with such beautiful words:

A Secret Master of Ceremonies has been at work. Christ who said to the disciples,” You have not chosen me but I have chosen you,” can truly say to every group of Christian friends, “You have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another.” Friendship is not the reward of our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others.

I would like to clarify something. My blogging has done my past history a great disservice. A great portion of my testimony is the peace that was made available from God through the Holy Spirit during my trial of suffering with Cindy. A wonderful Peace and Joy that came from the fruit of the Holy Spirit during this time. This fruit was abundant the whole time Cindy was ill and really allowed me to have no regrets. With the Spirit I made each and every decision and today there are no decisions that I would change. When I miss my wife and my flesh gets weak I start to question my decsions....but the truth...I have no regrets. I did all that I could, dutifully and with dedicated love. I have shared this with several people that have loved ones dying. Go...be with your loved ones. Don't have any regrets. You have the rest of your life to carry those regrets....avoid them while you can and get them out of the way while your loved one is still alive.

So........besides the Gift of the Holy Spirit what managed to get me through Cindy's illness. We were a young family but initially we had a lot of support from our Church.

This is our Family Dedication where we dedicated the whole family at once to God. We wanted to dedicate Andrew and Justin together but though it would be neat to include Nick. So we decided to dedicate the whole family to God at Robert's suggestion.

We found out early that Cindy was positive and waited awhile. Then we told Robert Parkinson. He became very proactive and organized the church around us. He sort of knew we were going to have problems. He bought in a specialist from Brown University to educate the church. The cost to the Church I am sure was prohibitive at the time. A family actually left. They were afraid for their babies being in the same nursery as ours. I was not told this for several years. It was the Aids scare of the early 90's. Still happens today. People need to be educated.

Before you knew it, during the blink of the eye, Cindy got ill, and my church family was put to its first test. Like a machine the children were collected, charts were made up of where they were going, how long they could stay. I was given phone numbers and signing medical release forms. This became habit over the next year and a half.

We also had friends outside the Church.

Friends that helped also keep us stable I wrote about some of

them here. Here they are:

Yeah...a good bunch they are. I have contact with them all still today. The big guy in the back is Leigh my very best friend from sixth grade, a friend that has taught me the the value of great friendship and is on friend that everyone should have at least one of in their life. The guy standing to to my wifes Right is John Wood. We call him Wood. He called Cindy every day from work. He is the encourager. He made her smile every day until she died. Standing in front of John is Margo, who is Cindy's best friend. Next to Margo is Jeanne Leigh's wife who beat me in Risk and did it by cheating :P . Jeanne is a nurse and a wonderful person. The couple on the End are Mike and Jacqui Lee. Really good friends that I love to see whenever I can. Mike is one of the funniest guys I know. Poor Jacqi.

So God has set up some really great support systems for me and Cindy. We have the Holy Spirit, a whole church, my direct friends, and this isn't even including two large families that I am not even going to touch here.

I am going to share some intimate shots now....of friends....I wish I could put them all up here. I do a slide presentation that includes many of them. I work in conjunction with the Ocean County Health Department doing HIV education and I have a Power Point Presentation that disarms people and allows me to drive home my subject and educate them.

Yes. Cindy is pretty sick here. This is late June 1994 and these are dear friends from Church, Cindy and Ernie Davidson and Peter Kercheval. Peter kind of looks like Bill the Cat here. I never realized that before. :) The funny masks THAT THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE WEARING is to prevent them from getting TB. Somehow with Cindy's weak immune system allowed her to become a carrier of TB.(Tuberculosis) They were waiting for a culture to see if she was spreading it airborne. It came back negative, finally, and we were able to bring home, of course this was to Make Her Final Journey Home.

Here is an Angel God put in our lives. Bob Guadagnino. Amidst his own life changes he visited Cindy regularly and helped me out quite a bit. He fixed my car and made sure I was fed and was sleeping. At Cindy's Memorial Service he stood up front and made me cry by the great things he said about Cindy. He is now an Elder and Youth Pastor at Ocean Christian Community and I love this man dearly.

Much has happened since Cindy passed away. I have moved on from OCC. There is a lot of pressure being a man that comes through such a tragedy successfully and is living with the illness himself that people lift you up to a stature that you do not necessarily deserve. I am just Matt. I am sinner just like the rest. I continue to sin, it is my worldly nature. I am not Superman. But I know a Superman.....he is Jesus.

Perhaps if you are a regular reader you have gathered that I am again in the fire. With Nick. A different circumstance. But I am surrounded again with Holy Spirit and its fruit, friends, family and church. Two particular people really have gone the extra mile for me. The timing for Nick to implode/explode came upon the end of me being very ill and weak. These two friends have really made sure that they have been with me all the time during visits or meetings. You see....sleep is evasive right now.....however...over the past two days...spritually I have evened out. I have come back to a place where I can meet the Holy Spirit. My Flesh and Spirit are under control....so I can Meet Him and He has met me in a tremendous way. The Peace...at hand is wonderful and rewarding.... Here are the two men that got me through this:

Yes....that is them. That is a prop to “A Charlie Brown Christmas” that we did two or three years ago. My Kidz Klub came and performed the play for our church. It was pretty good. I took this picture and have been waiting to spring it at an appropriate time. The Man behind the booth is Pastor Bill Meyer. The Man in Front is Mike Hrehovcik. These two men are my Aaron and Hur. (Remember the story of Moses praying to defeat the army of Amelikites and every time he put his arms down Israel would start to lose the battle....but when he held them up to pray Israel would start to win...well...Aaron and Hur helped hold his arms up...and Israel won the war.)

I have four brothers, Mark, Jack Chris and Robert. These two guys are officially in my mind...are my fifth and sixth brothers. We have become that close. I will not get into specifics but I have entrusted my boys with them. That is how much I trust and love them.

So....God does work and support us through friendships. I would not change any of mine. I miss my wife. I miss Nick.... But I would not trade my friends for anything..... Thank You God

Up Next The Beauty takes her last Communion (pt3)

Beauty and the Beast (pt 1)

Matt — Wed, 02 Feb 2005 04:27:00 GMT

As a young man I dated a lot. Looking back, I dated a lot. Did I mention I dated a lot. I had the same girl friend for 5 years. Then a crazy woman for 1 year who I allowed to break my heart three times. I was dumb. I was in love. Oh....yeah...those terms dumb and in love really mean something.

Then I went through a lot of dating. Just looking for the right woman. At the time all the Christian woman in my life were either too old or too young. It was kind of funny. So...I dated non-Christians, and when you are committed it is oil and water. Friends of mine that are non-Christian do not understand and I cannot seem to find ways to explain it to them. In the period of July of 1991 I dated three woman casually but this is the one that really caught my eye and a double bonus,I met her in church and she was a Christian.

Tall, beautiful, with dazzling straight teeth and smile. Cindy was an unclaimed flower. I always looked around thinking, maybe it is just me. Maybe she is really ugly and I cannot see it. Why was this woman single? Well, it might have had something to do with Mr. Happy. He is the small man Cindy is holding. I am just kidding. Nick is two years old in this picture. It is taken at Allaire State Park. This is on our first dates. Obviously he cannot wait for me to become his new Dad. If you look on Cindy's arm, there is a Seiko watch that I gave her. She treasured that watch. Please note Cindy's arm.

Well, things progressed. We fell in love. I will not get into sad details just happy ones today. You see today is my Thirteenth Year Wedding Anniversary. Cindy Ann and I were married February 1, 1992. Now for all of my friends that wonder what I look like.

There I am and there is my lovely new wife. This picture is taken right before six hundred pounds of bird seed was thrown at us. I was pulling bird seed our of my nose and ears for days. You cannot tell, but it was freezing. The wind was really blowing and anyone that knows my wife knows how much she hates the cold. Matter of fact I wanted to go skiing on our honeymoon and she said then I would be the only one going on the honeymoon. I reconsidered. I was looking forward to staying warm too.

Yeah. We had TWO receptions. One for our Ocean Christian Community Church family because we loved them so much. And then another for family and friends later. Hey...some really made out and came to both. I happened to be one of them.

No comments about how short I look. Cindy threatened to wear high heels. She was 5'10. This was the first and only time she ever wore makeup. I told her she looked like a Japanese Geisha. It was very uncharacteristic. (I hope Geisha isn't whore) Did I forget to mention Cindy was three months pregnant here? (Mentioning this really disappointed some Christian friends of mine. I promise I will do it differently next time.) I also was battling re-occurring mono. We both slept most of our honeymoon.

Here is a much better picture of Cindy without make-up. She really was a natural beauty with perfect coloring. She never liked contacts which I considered a blessing. Nicholas got his huge eyes from his Mother, which were well hidden beneath her glasses.

Of course Cindy loved Nicholas. When I first met Cindy I was not so sure I was going to be allowed into their private little club. There was always the appearance the only Cindy could handle Nick, but that was never the truth. God timed my coming. His plans are perfect. These two people above are very special. I would do whatever possible to make both of their lives enjoyable. Sometimes I wonder if God made the right choice. I look around and I see so many other great men. I'm a lot of bad things. I fall short in a lot of ways. Sometimes I look back and I feel I did nothing but bumble my way through Cindy's illness. There are moment's of despair that I wonder did I make all of the right decisions. Would Cindy be here now if I made just one decision different?

That is really bad thinking. For the time I did everything that I possibly could. I promised Cindy anything she wanted. Anything. Like the true Spiritual Giant she was, she replied,“ I only want to spend time with you.“

So Cindy....Happy Anniversary. I spend it with thoughts of you wishing you were here. I'm getting ready to pop the video in. Getting ready to see you turn that corner again, and have my stomach turn. I can close my eyes and feel your hands trembling again as Cyrus and Terry sang Amazing Graze to open our service. I remember you whispering your vows and the Unity candle that barely lit and Robert's (The Pastor) boyish laugh when he paralleled our marriage to the “Beauty and the Beast.“ Well for the most part he was correct. You were indeed the beauty...that no one can deny...and the Beast...well...the Beast just kind of carries on.... he has other work.....

Other Work....TO Come

Who is the Enemy?

Matt — Thu, 27 Jan 2005 05:50:00 GMT

Who is the enemy?

It is important we each must know.

Could you pick yours out if asked

and make it worldly known.

Mine is guiled in sweet sounds and pleading

To which I must reply,

I know who you are, can no longer be deceived,

Your threat to me is real and viable,

I could live with it if it were only me.

But there are two children, a street, a town,

county, state, and country,

all of which live in potential of your threat.

But Take this my child for it tortures my soul

day to day you call, twist my words,

You have my ear, break my heart

But my answer always will be

No.

Tearfully Dad

A Christmas Story (pt 3): The Blessed Room

Matt — Tue, 21 Dec 2004 05:18:00 GMT

I can really relate to Robyn Williams character Sean in “Good Will Hunting”. Perhaps a third of the way through the movie a line is said that really moves me.

Sean(Robyn Williams) talking to Will (Matt Damon) : And you wouldn't know how it felt to be her angel and to have the love to be there for her forever - through anything - through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand and not leaving because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term *visiting hours* doesn't apply to you.

I saw this movie several years after Cindy passed away and it really encapsulated for me the love I felt for my wife. Suffering and Love have a lot in common. I do not know who to credit this quote. It may be CS Lewis or Spurgeon...“With Great Love comes Great Pain. There is a cost to loving deeply.“

I will add: With Great Love comes Great Pain. But the Joy that accompanies Great Love offsets and totally annihilates any Suffering.

I learned in the arms of my most precious companion how to treasure every second we had together here on Earth. The time we are apart feels like an eternity.

So. Having been released from my transgressions from a man I could not see was having its impact. I don't remember parking the car. I don't remember unloading the kids or the walk past the nurses station. I do remember the blue double stroller I was pushing. I also remember the long hall that goes from the cafeteria to the elevators. The Elevator rides were always interesting. Particularly with Nick since he liked to press every button. Cindy was staying on the sixth floor so it was a long ride.

Having arrived on the sixth floor we weaved through some obstacles and finally made it to Cindy's room. At the time....1993...they tended to isolate people with HIV. I will not get into that, but it is a lot different today. Well we finally arrived at the room and I remember looking through the door and having a very astonished reaction.

Cindy was sitting up on the edge of the bed. Fully dressed. Her hair was shining. I remember her perfect smile with large white straight teeth filling the room. Her face was glowing. Cindy never wore makeup. She had great facial color and an unblemished complexion. Her face was set with high cheekbones that woman today pay big bucks to have surgically placed. She was absolutely beautiful and it was astonishing to see her so well.

Apparently overnight everything miraculously cleared. Chest clear, fever gone, and she had regained enough strength to take a shower. It was two weeks of hell that came to a slamming halt. Cindy was sitting there waiting for our Doctor Weinberg to come in and release her. This was great news to me.

While Cindy was ogling the kids and trying to catch up on lost time with them I noticed a bunch of nurses pouring into our room. They all came to see the children and right away I saw that Cindy was with her comrades. She was also a nurse. I recognized that day that nurses are like police or firefighters. They had a club and they talked nurse jargon and understood and empathized with each other in a way I could never relate. I wasn't a nurse.

While all this was going on the charge nurse of the floor asked me to come outside. A very friendly lady. She said to me, “Mr. Jacopec (that's my Dad's name), our floor adopted your family for Christmas this year and we hope you would not feel funny receiving some gifts we collected for you.”

She then took me down the hallway. At the end of the hallway was a huge pile of gifts. I was thinking at first that I was supposed to just pull a few gifts from the pile for the Boys. I said “Oh thats great! Which ones am I allowed?” The Charge Nurse replied, “Oh No, they are all for your family.” I began to get really weak in the knees and for the second time in one day I began to weep.

I mentioned in the first part that I was a giver and never a taker. But it was this day that I realized something further. There are takers. And they will take and take and take. There are times however, for someone to receive, and this was far different than taking. People need a place to pour out their love. I have always been aware of people that take and taking has become their lifestyle. Taking and Receiving are two different monsters. Receiving a gift that is unsolicited is a humbling and moving experience. Particularly for someone that has dedicated their life to giving.

I returned to my wifes room. Very aware of the answers to prayer that were constantly unfolding before me. It was December 22, 1993. I remember looking around The Blessed Room. My recovering wife,picturesque, holding Andrew. Justin playing on the bed at her folded knees. Nick was busy with a dark haired nurse both of them smiling. My face was wet with tears and I was basking in the moment soaking up the Joy of the Christmas Spirit that had been poured into the room on the sixth floor of Monmouth Medical Center.

A Christmas Story (pt2):Pulled Over in Long Branch

Matt — Fri, 17 Dec 2004 11:21:00 GMT

Pulled Over in Long Branch

Amidst this Christmas memory I cannot recall the feelings of stress or pressure. All things totaled, one would deduce that I should have been crumbling from the strain. Cindy was in the hospital, my main vehicle was dead, I was not sleeping, there was little money, I was still working, and my children needed care. There was always the burden of unpaid utilities and rent. I have no recollection of any negative feelings or impending doom. Maybe I was numb, I do not know. My normal nature, due to my beliefs and relation with God, is to be joyful and content. The peace of God is a gift from the Holy Spirit. But this Christmas was quickly going downhill. I do not recall doing any Christmas shopping. All of my “credit cards” were maxed from a prior family vacation. Victimizing the boys, Cindy and myself was never an outlet and I would never make my money burdens known. I’m a giver, never a taker.

By this time all three boys had been placed in different locations. Nicholas was 5, he was at my in-laws. That was the only place for Nick to go. He was a young handful. I remember Toms River Schools sending a bus specially to pick him up. Justin was 18 months. He was splitting time at three different homes, the Woods, Thorpes and Kerchevals. Justin was carted around like a young prince with his portable play pen which also served as his crib. Andrew, 5 months, was with a family that had just started visiting our church. They were kind people and the husband was killed in a fluke electrical accident just few years ago.

I would work during the day and then make my rounds to visit each child. I would then go to the hospital to spend time with my wife. These days in the Month of December of 1993 were very long. My days became ritualistic and that was one of the driving mechanisms to my own sanity.

So, how did I get around? We had two cars. Earlier in the year Cindy had stopped driving. Her 1990 Honda Civic sat in our driveway. It was a small car and we barely used it. I feel fortunate that we still had it even though I was missing payments regularly. The Civic was re-commissioned and it served readily. One day close to Christmas I gathered all the boys to bring them to the hospital. I wanted to give Cindy a spark. It seemed she had been ill for an eternity.

I had the boys planted inside their car seats, Nick and Justin in the back and Andrew in his portable car seat in the front, I drove to Monmouth Medical Center. It was one of those typical New Jersey December days. A cold gentle breeze was present with the sky overcast and no hint of sun. There were occasional snow flurries with no significant snow accumulation. We arrived in the town of Long Branch driving along Second Avenue. Just as I was about to make a left turn into the hospital parking lot I looked in my rear view mirror, my heart dropped. Behind me was a Police cruiser with its red lights flashing, every driver’s worse nightmare. With my heart in my throat I pulled over.

Along side my car walked the Officer. He asked me for my driver’s license, registration and insurance cards. I handed them to him still wondering why I was being pulled over. It is here that Nick woke up and began to get real excited about the Policeman. Definitely more excited than me. He was twisting and turning and trying to get his best view of the Officer. The Officer came back to my driver’s side window. Nick stuck his head out from the rear of the car. I can still see his smiling face. I don’t think it had much effect on the Officer. He informs me he pulled me over for doing 45mph in a 30mph zone. He then looked at me closer and said, “Do you have anyone that can pick you up? Your cars registration is expired and I will have to tow your car.” I died in my seat.

When we parked the Honda, I failed to keep up on the registration. It was six months overdue. I put my head down. I got out of my car and began to empty the car of my children. It was harrowing and the day had grown even colder. It was at this point that I knew I had no one to be mad with, not even myself. These were life circumstances that manage to happen when we pay more attention to things that are indeed important. At the time many things were second to my wife. I was only one person and sometimes not everything worked out. The Honda was a plate that I neglected to spin. As a spinning plate goes, it was ready to hit the ground. I was getting Andrew out of the front seat the officer came back. “Sir, I just spoke to my Commander. He said as long as your insurance was current you can leave. But we cannot promise you what will happen if you get pulled over again in another town.”

I was very grateful. I began to re-pack the boys the Officer asked me why I was up here in Long Branch. I told him my wife was ill in the hospital. He said he thought that was the case. He then said to me,” When I spoke to my Commander I told him I thought you were visiting your wife in the hospital. I really didn’t know that was the case. However, the Commander’s wife is in the hospital too. So he wanted to cut you a break. He knows how you feel.”

I began to weep. Tears flowed uncontrollably. I thanked the Officer. I asked him to thank his Commander. I got into my car and was very aware of what just transpired. I was just given mercy for a crime I was not even aware of that I was committing. Grace was being bestowed and I took it. A man that I could not see empathized because he walked in similar fashion. I was in awe of the parallels with Christ. I drove to the parking garage grateful for being forgiven and very eager to see my wife.

coming up The Blessed Room (PT3)

A Christmas Story

Matt — Thu, 16 Dec 2004 04:06:00 GMT

To the Hospital

A buried memory has been released. It is one of those memories that surfaces and there is no recollection why it was buried. But it comes to the top and it is as clear as the day it happened. So here I sit at the end of one of those memories. I hope I am able to write it clearly and quickly before it fades back below the surface from where it came.

It was December 1993. My wife, Cindy, was sick. Very sick. Her breathing was labored; she was listless, hot and sweaty. Her temperature was over 103 degrees. Having been through this several times before I entered into “Cindy needs to go to the hospital mode.” It was early afternoon. I called my parents and they came over to sit with the boys as I bundled Cindy up and drove the 30 minute drive to Monmouth Medical Center.

Cindy looked really ill. She wasn't able to neither drink nor keep any food down. Her labored breathing and high temperature indicated that she had pneumonia. These were the days before the great medications. Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia (PCP). It is a deadly pneumonia that had claimed many AIDS victims. This would be our 5th trip to the hospital with PCP. Poor Cindy, she never complained but I knew her chest ached and her eyes throbbed from here high temperatures. Monmouth always received her thoughtfully and gently. They would give her an IV with antibiotics and I would sit and wait wondering if this was going to be the time. Was this going to be the time that there would be no recovery? Would Cindy be called home? Claimed into the Great Cloud of Witnesses? Would release from the body that was betraying her and torturing her earthly soul finally be at hand?

In the hospital I gained an excellent education on how to wait. I have become a pro at waiting. I can sit for 6 hour stretches without ever getting up. I look back and I am grateful for the ability to wait. It has been a valuable skill and has probably kept me from going over the edge and becoming the nut I probably should be. I waited this day for about 14 hours. It was 3am in the morning and Cindy was finally stabilizing. She looked much better. Fast asleep and beautiful, always beautiful, I finally felt released to leave her side.

On the return trip home....my transmission blew. The planetary whateranotjunk blew up and apparently there was metal everywhere. This was not good. It was after 3 in the morning. I was just at the end of my own private suffering and apparently it was meant to continue. I called AAA and I waited 2 hours in subfreezing temperatures for a tow truck. It was another hour before I was able to hobble from where the tow truck dropped my car and me off into a Diner. I had generously and stupidly given the driver the last 7 dollars as a tip that I possessed. I cannot remember how I called my father for a ride. I think I begged for a phone call somewhere. I was cold, tired and strained from losing my vehicle. Luckily we had two vehicles....and a future stop by the Long Branch Police Department.

Part 2 Soon to follow

Depression Babies Part II....Again

Matt — Tue, 10 Aug 2004 11:09:00 GMT

I really hope I do this half justice. The last time I tried this....I lost my posting...and the whole story. An hours worth of work. Bah. I write when I cannot sleep. If you look at the times on most of my posts...I guarantee they are all early morning hour postings.... Which could be good...and could be bad.....

.......so...we purchase tickets to a place Porky and I thought was really cool...Emporia, Virginia. We got on that Grey Hound, and several hours later we get off in Emporia. Emporia was not what we imagined. Remember, we came from Bayonne, NJ and ended up in a place that was the extreme opposite.

With the last of our money.....we went to the local hotel and got a room for the night. We then asked the clerk where we could find jobs. We needed to work...we needed to fulfill our fantasy. Work and Independence. 13 years of age...who doesn't have this dream at that age?

The clerk tells us there is a factory down the road. There may be work there. We leave and walk down the road he directed. Lucky for us....we were walking through apple orchards! Porky and I were both very hungry. The apples weren't ripe. Matter of fact....they were very un-ripe. Stiff and sour. But, they were a gourmet meal....we were so hungry. We ate our fill and continued to the factory. I barely remember what happened there. We were probably too young....or there were not any jobs to be given. I do remember us returning to our room with our shirts stuffed with un-ripe apples from the return trip. Night found us tired and unsure. Porky was becoming a little uneasy...and this did not help me much at all either. That night we both fell asleep uncertain what the next day would bring. My guess was more apples.

Bang-Bang-Bang.....early morning came with a loud knocks at the door. I jumped up...and was quite startled. Porky....definitely was no help....he was hiding.. So...courageously I walked over to the door and opened it.... There stood the biggest man I can remember, wearing a ten gallon hat, a badge and a holster holding the largest gun I have ever seen. The Sheriff.

Quickly I remembered the apples we had “taken”. Looking around the room there were apple cores everywhere. I figured we were done. Now the Sheriff, walked into the room, and surprisingly paid no attention to the apples. He asked us where we were from and in his slow Virginia accent asked,”What are you boys doing here?” We replied relating our story of coming ot Emporia for work and not being able to find any. The Sheriff asked if our parents knew where we were and we were too scared to lie. The Sheriff then told us he was alerted by the clerk that there were two potential runaways and that was the reason we were there.

He then collected us and took us to his office. A small office with a visible cell in the back. The Sheriff then called our Mother's. I remember.....Porky's Mother.....coming to Emporia as fast as she could. Picking up her son.....and glaring at me. Porky must have told her it was all my fault. He remained faithful to being the outsider that he probably would go through life being. I never saw Porky again. I never got to tell his Mother it was his idea...and she never offered to take me home. Which leads to my Mother. She told the Sheriff to keep me until she could send the money.... to bring me home. I was quite worried....I was not so sure she would ever send the money.

Nowhere else to keep me...and afraid I would take off...the Sheriff put me in his Cell. Today an 13 year old would never undergo this treatment. Not only being put in a jail cell...but I was sharing the cell with two men, one was a murderer. YOW!

They were both black.....I can't remember what one guy was in there for....but the other...came home and caught his wife cheating. He killed the man. I remember this guy very clearly. He was very proper and very nice. Clean and well dressed, definitely educated. Looking back...I wonder if he ever got a fair trial. This was Virginia and I did not know how the Virginian law worked....at 13 why would I care?

Well...for several days....Every meal consisted of Beans, Corn Bread and black coffee. Every meal. Morning, noon and night. Beans, Cornbread and Black Coffee. A treat was being able to put molasses in your coffee. There was nothing else to do but talk. One guy had a harmonica....no kidding...and he played it well.

Awhile later....money arrived for a ticket for me....and the Sheriff placed me on a Greyhound back to Jersey City. I can't remember what my Mother said when I came home....but I do remember....Emporia. The apples, Porky, factory, room, Sheriff, murderer, corn bread and coffee with molasses.

I never returned.

Depression Babies

Matt — Thu, 29 Jul 2004 00:58:00 GMT

Time to continue with one more of my Dad's true stories. We were talking the other night...and my Mother was quit upset that my Father tells these stories. I am not sure what the reason is for that. It might be embarrassment, it might be shame...it might be because my Mother's life was very opposite of my Dad's. She was in a very solid family. Not rich, but not depression poor either. My Mother's tales are for another day.

When I was 13...Growing up in Bayone...there was a gang of boys that I hung out with. It was the early 40's and things were very unstable around the world. Living in Bayonne, the rest of the world felt very far away. Basically we did what gangs did in those days. No one really had much money, so we hung out. Talk, look at girls, and basically were bums. I look at movies that depict boys of that time...and...I say to myself...”Hey! that's me!”

Well, as a gang we were a typical gang. We considered our elves hip even though there was nothing extra-ordinary about us. We were all friends and we liked each other, that at the time is all that counted. There was a boy, everyone called him Porky because....yes...he was a tad overweight. Porky was not only overweight...he was very short. Because of these reasons, Porky was always an outsider. A wannabe. He wanted to be part of our clique. Our Gang. Always on the fringe, Porky would do whatever he could to be accepted. Today when I look back, I am not sure why he really never did fit. It must be the curse that some children receive. Tagged an outsider whether they deserve it or not.

Well, in Porky's bid to be accepted one of the things he would always do is be very verbal. He would announce regularly how much he hated Bayonne. How boring life was, how stupid his parents were. Basically he would grumble and complain hoping that it would gain his acceptance into our group. It never worked.

I guess one of the things that set Porky and us apart was...money. His family had no wants. He was well groomed with perfect hair. Probably parted by his Mother ever day. His Mother's control was evidenced in his demeanor, and now that is what I recall really set him apart. A tough place for a 13 year old boy to be. Especially when all he wants is to be just “one of the guys.“ Able to fish and talk and not feel any pressure to impress others.

One day, it was just Porky and myself and and he was doing his routine grumbling. Well, Porky was feeling extremely brave and during his routine he asks,”John, lets leave this place. Lets get on a bus and go. Wherever we end up we can get a room and find some jobs, and make our own way. We can get away from this place.” Well, at the time it sounded goo to me...so...we boarded a made our way to Jersey City and caught a Greyhound to a place that we thought sounded real adventurous......

Note: This is the cliffhanger. :P Pt 2 soon to come........plus....

Future advertisment.... My Dad's venture into the Army, at the age of 16 soon to come. Out of the Depression and into the Fire.